Complementary
by worldwithoutlogic
Summary: In a forest surrounded by nothing but bad weather and a looming sense of fear and dread, Hermione finds respite in the most unlikely places. Written for the HP Drizzle Fest 2014 on LJ.


**A/N:** This is probably way late; I mean, the fest ended more than a month ago. But anyway, I'm still posting it here so I can have everything in one place. A big thank you to M for helping me beta my fic! This was so much fun to write because of the weather theme, and I hope the amount of fluff is just right, heh. Enjoy and thanks for reading!

**Prompt:** 3. She's afraid of thunder, but he's here for her.

**Warning:** Not HBP/DH compliant

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>The tell-tale chill of oncoming rain descended upon the grassy clearing where their tent was hurriedly pitched, the cold draught stirring the tent flaps. Hermione froze for a moment, eyes wide— a storm was definitely on its way.<p>

She was stranded in the middle of a forest somewhere in the highlands –and a war— until someone from the Order gave the all-clear to move on to another destination, or at least updated them on the Order's progress. The members had left in a hurry, having had just enough time to grab a tent charmed with Undetectable Extension, some food, and whatever they had on themselves before they had to make their quick escape from the ever-increasing number of Death Eaters and spies in their midst. Their roles in the war were, to say the least, not going as well as they hoped.

The situation had also left them with no choice but to split up and to lay low—that meant no magic, either—until they had narrowed down the safe locations for operations to continue.

That was fine with Hermione, and she didn't really think anything of who she was deployed with until things had settled down. Apparently, now that reality had truly sunk in, she realised that she had the sheer luck of being tent-mates with Draco Malfoy until further notice. It wasn't that bad, though. Things were going as smoothly as their professional civility could afford them.

_This_ issue aside, there was nothing much to distract her from the _other_ current problem at hand—that was, the ominous clouds looming over her tent, threatening to spill over with rain. She wondered how Draco, who was outside surveying the area, was going to put up with the almost-guaranteed downpour. Shaking those thoughts out of her head, Hermione turned her attention back to her leather-bound planner and absentmindedly scratched the back of her neck with the blunt end of the quill as she continued with her research.

This sequence of events was more than familiar, as was the weather in these parts of the country. They had been in this place for no more than a week, and the rain hadn't failed them yet. She would be surprised if it stopped raining even for a day.

True to itself, it was in no time at all when the sudden drumming on the tent canvas immediately alerted her of the drizzle. She sighed resignedly, burrowing further into the blankets wrapped around her to find a more comfortable position to read in.

It wasn't that she hated the rain; it _was_ refreshing, but it was what came with the rain that sent shivers up her spine. Ever since the war started, thunderstorms merely served as a reminder about the destruction around her: as if every bolt of lightning was coloured green, shuttling towards them and ending their lives abruptly; the thunder, some other structure collapsing around them, threatening to bury them under rubble, much like Hogwarts had been.

A distant rumble of thunder reminded her again of what was to come, and the dread and fear washed over her. Clutching at the parchment, she braced herself for the onslaught of the storm— and as if on cue, the thunder resurfaced, much louder than before. She jumped up in shock, accidentally crumpling the notebook paper and dropping the quill in the process. Letting out a harrumph of impatience, she looked up just in time to see Draco pushing past the flaps of the tent, disgruntled and thoroughly drenched.

"Weather out there's completely mad," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. His appearance back at the tent around this time, soaked to the bone, was starting to become a routine.

Spotting the quill lying pathetically on the ground, he looked at her pointedly and picked up the quill at his feet.

He handed it back to her and she reclaimed it with a sheepish grin.

Draco then set himself down on the sleeping bag in his half of the tent, where he proceeded to dry his hair off with a towel. She continued with her research, flipping through the blank pages of her book with feigned indifference, the silence between them only broken by the periodic rolls of thunder.

They'd done this before too, in the one or two instances in which Malfoy hadn't managed to come back to the tent in time during the daily downpours.

He observed her for a while, before dumping the wet towel on the ground next to his sleeping bag. Rummaging through his possessions, the blond finally fished out a rather worn tome from his bag.

_This_, however, hadn't happened before in the otherwise predictable chain of events. Hermione, unable to concentrate on her work any longer, was completely aware of what Malfoy was doing and eyed him quizzically.

The silence hung between them as he stood up and walked towards her, book in hand. Holding the novel in front of the brunette, he waited expectantly, saying nothing. Hermione accepted it with curious incredulity.

She was rather glad that he didn't mention anything about her fear of thunder, though. Being the independent girl that she was brought up to be, she never liked it when Harry or Ron coddled her whenever she had to face something that made her uncomfortable. She needed to assert herself— and Malfoy gave her the opportunity to do so by speaking nothing of her insecurities. She was sceptical if it was consideration that he had towards her or mere indifference. Either way, she was grateful all the same.

Draco settled on finding another comfy spot on the floor after handing her the book, and it was close enough to where she was sitting that she could faintly smell the damp earth and ozone from his encounter with the rain.

A crack of thunder sounded through the atmosphere again, this one loud enough to rattle through their bones, startling even Draco. Hermione shuddered and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Her form betrayed the otherwise impassive façade that she attempted to put up in an effort to be strong in the face of meteorological adversity. Seeing her stony expression, Draco tilted his head to one side, assessing the situation with some amusement.

"Go on, read the book," Draco said, nodding his head at the book she was still gripping tightly. "We're probably going to be stuck here for a while."

She lowered her gaze to the synopsis on the back cover, gravely embarrassed at how she was currently too afraid that speaking would let slip the tremor in her voice. She was intrigued by how he perceptively provided her with the most welcome distraction.

Books were her escape. She never failed to be comforted by the possibilities of journeys across worlds, realms, civilisations— all so far away from the harsh reality she faced now. The love of reading was one of the few things she had left and she was fully appreciative of it, because she now had an avenue to channel her energy into; so much so that she would be able to forget that the thunderstorm was even happening. She didn't even notice when the rain picked up, or when Malfoy accidentally fell asleep on her side of the tent.

This unexpected but ingenious idea worked, and the rest of the evening passed uneventfully.

If anything, at least progress had been made: the rain didn't bother her for the rest of the day.

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><p>"Do you have any other books?" she stuttered during the next thunderstorm, crossing her arms in an effort to stop the queasiness. The pair was now sitting cross-legged on the floor facing each other in the midst of yet another downpour, sharing a can of baked beans between them.<p>

"What do you think I am? A library?" He replied, not unkindly, amused glint in his eyes betraying the otherwise snarky comment. "Sadly, no. You'll have to make do with what you currently have," he added a moment later, jabbing his spoon into the cold, viscous contents of the tin can.

"I read it thrice already."

Malfoy set the can of beans down and looked mock-affronted, earning him a glare from Hermione.

"Well, I don't know if I can find another one right now. We'll just have to make do with a dramatic reading then. Who knows, the fourth time may be the charm." Without waiting for her reaction, he snatched up the book, settled down on his stomach and flipped expertly to a page.

"Chapter 1."

"You're kidding me." She was incredulous.

He ignored her and continued scanning the page, trailing a finger down the printed lines until he found an amusing sentence.

And the second he opened his mouth to read it out loud, Hermione knew that he was definitely serious about this.

The baked beans were forgotten.

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><p>Somewhere between the exaggerated interpretation of the lines interspersed with snarky comments as contributed by the Slytherin, Hermione realised that she was enjoying herself— sarcasm was something she could identify with, being a frequent user of it herself, and she couldn't help but laugh at both the way he was speaking and the witty comments he gave. (She might also have noticed how his mercurial grey eyes exuded vitality and his jawline was rather well-defined under the light— neither of which that she'd outwardly mention, of course.) All was well and good until thunder crashed again and she jumped, unintentionally grabbing his arm. Sense was knocked into her a split second later and she immediately let go, face feeling hot.<p>

"It's not working, then?" Draco peered up at her, eyebrow raised. He was now lying on his back next to her, resting the book on his stomach as he angled the page such that the dim light of the lamp could illuminate the words better in their rapidly darkening surroundings.

"It is!" she insisted, before noting that she might have sounded a little too eager. A bolt of lightning flashed and she was unable to prepare herself sufficiently for the inevitable crack of thunder, but it sounded anyway milliseconds later, causing her to give a strained yelp, inciting a concerned frown from Draco.

"It's working, I'm fine— just a bit jittery," she went on. And it wasn't exactly a lie; they were just referring to different things. He assumed she was dazed from all the thunder and lightning, but of course, her reasons couldn't be any more different.

Hermione never really noticed it till now. His voice, his humour, the way his shoulder was leaning lightly against her as he orientated the book towards the light source—he wasn't too bad a person to be stuck in the woods with, honestly.

Funny how she probably wouldn't have noticed it if it weren't for the phenomenon she dreaded most.

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><p>The next time a thunderstorm happened and she tried her luck one more time by asking for something to read, he finally placated her by managing to find an old magazine in the deepest depths of his travel bag, one with gossip headlines plastered all over the cover.<p>

"Witch Weekly? Honestly, I'm questioning your choices now," Hermione snickered.

"It's my mum's!" Malfoy said defensively.

"How do you even have so many books with you?"

"For the record, I only have the two. I—I took some along with me for… memory's sake," Draco trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable as he fiddled with the corner of the front cover idly.

She dropped the subject, knowing that his deviance and subsequent separation from his parents and their ideals when the War began still bothered him.

Changing the topic of conversation to try and lighten the mood, she quipped, "Well, let's see what fashion tips we can extract from this issue, then."

The weather was especially chilly that night, and they snuggled up in the blankets after a mutual agreement that one of the more practical ways of not freezing to death was to share body heat— which led to the pair being more conscious than ever in avoiding direct contact under the blankets.

"This feels like a sleepover," Draco wrinkled his nose, flipping through the magazine in distaste.

"Wasn't this the point? After you so kindly set the mood by bringing out Witch Weekly?" Her comment earned her a whack on the shoulder with the rolled-up magazine.

"Take it or leave it." He held up the rolled-up issue and tapped her nose with it teasingly as if it was a wand. The familiarity of the action and the sudden realisation of what he had just done caused him to stop in his tracks, hand still hovering in mid-air before he lowered it cautiously, leaving both of them in a pensive mood.

"Do you think we'll be able to get out of this situation soon?" Hermione asked quietly after a while.

"We have to; there's no other choice, is there? We'll run out of food soon and unless you want to be some kind of nomad…" Draco laughed dryly, attempting to inject some humour into the statement, but they both knew that there was a hint of reality in what he said.

"But really. War or no war, I miss being able to use magic. You know that feeling, when you thought you could live without something, but there's actually this void caused by it that you never knew existed? That's what I feel about magic now."

"That's what I feel about a lot of other things too," Draco agreed. Mostly what-could-have-beens, like his parents and a peaceful life, but as of late, one new thing kept niggling at his mind— this past week with Hermione.

They fell asleep that night after making fun of the entire issue, having a go at the 'Does He Like Me' quizzes and reading up on make-up tips ("'How To: Summer Styles'? Is this some cruel joke?"), and the evening passed quickly. Whether the thunder was indeed softer than usual or their new-found companionship tided them over remained to be seen, but Hermione finally felt that the problem of thunder seemed a world away.

They woke up next to each other the next day, side-by-side, personal space a forgotten thing of the past; and somehow, it felt completely natural.

* * *

><p>It wasn't surprising that the next time it rained, it had only been a day later.<p>

They'd been in the woods for a week and a half now. The rain has reduced itself to a drizzle, although the thunder continued to rumble.

As Draco went out to do the morning check on the Dark Marks in the sky, Hermione's gaze fell upon the two books stacked atop Malfoy's bag that had been their only entertainment in the past week.

The thunder didn't really bother her anymore. Because when it did, the books (and more importantly, the owner of the books) managed to take her mind off the fear, filling her instead with hope and solace.

She found herself awaiting his return, and it was with a bittersweet feeling that she received his report of the Order finally giving the all-clear sign to move to the next safe house, this time in Scotland.

She voiced out her reflections upon her fear of thunder, and Draco met them with a smile.

"There's still a lot of time before we reach the next safe house," he grinned. "We can always drop by a bookstore along the way."

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><p>Books and thunderstorms. One of which was constantly there for her, and the other she only recently realised was nothing to be afraid of— the two were now close to her heart in the most unexpected way. And she does think that she's ready to make space in there for <em>one<em> more.


End file.
